


Monitoring His Frequency

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character of Color, F/M, Post-Star Trek (2009), Telepathy, Vulcan Bond, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: She couldn't think of anything she'd done that none of the rest of the away team had; nowhere she'd gone that she hadn't had at least one of the Starfleet personnel with her.  But something was definitely affecting her that wasn't affecting the rest of them.
Relationships: Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 20
Kudos: 81
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Monitoring His Frequency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



"Well. What's your verdict, Doctor?" Nyota asked, giving the Enterprise's chief medical officer a faint smile.

She'd much prefer to still be down on the planet, assisting the diplomatic team in communicating with the primary sentient species of a recently discovered high-tech world, than be sitting in the medical bay dealing with a case of heavy exhaustion and a stabbing headache. She hadn't been the only one to go pale and strained and nauseous by the end of their first full day on-world, though, and of course they'd had to rule out poisoning or some other means of sabotage before resuming negotiations.

A faint frown wrinkled between Dr. McCoy's eyebrows; he wasn't seriously worried, then. But there was definitely something unusual going on. "Did you go off by your own at any point? Drink something the others weren't offered? Walk in a garden with one of the natives, maybe?"

Nyota glanced toward the other beds in sickbay, where the rest of the team was being checked over. Several were massaging their temples; all of them looked bleary. But no, none of them looked quite as worn as she felt. She couldn't think of anything she'd done that none of the rest of them had, though; nowhere she'd gone that she hadn't had at least one of the Starfleet personnel with her.

Except for the restrooms, of course. But they'd all used them, at some point during the day. And they'd followed the same form and function as most of the other humanoid elimination facilities she'd ever encountered – well, except the world with the three seashells. She still didn't get how those were supposed to work. But she hadn't picked up or touched anything unusual this time, and the security team had gone over the entire place with tricorders before the first of the diplomatic team had entered.

"No; not that I can think of. Why do you ask?"

"Hm," McCoy replied, frown deepening. "Jim said the same thing. But while the whole team is showing symptoms of some kind of atypical allergic reaction – whatever you were exposed to, it's definitely triggering your immune systems – the pair of you are more affected than any of the others. Him I might put down as just an extreme reaction, given his medical history, but you're usually as healthy as a horse."

Their Captain did have a notoriously tetchy immune system; one consequence of being born on a shuttle in deep space with all kinds of radiation flying around. But McCoy was right; Nyota didn't have a history of that kind of thing. "There's always a first time," she said. "Can you treat it?"

"Alleviate the more obvious symptoms, sure. And I can load the team up with an inhibiting agent before they go back down. But I'm concerned there's some other component to it; you're more exhausted than a histamine reaction should account for, and there's some unusual activity going on with your neurotransmitters. Nothing particularly alarming, but definitely out of the norm. I'll have to spend some quality time with the scanners to nail down the exact cause."

She made a disgruntled face. "So I'm probably not going back down again tomorrow."

Not that the rest of her communications team wasn't fully capable of filling in for her – Starfleet had made sure the crew roster was full of experienced, skilled junior officers before sending _Enterprise_ off after Nero with a still very green, if highly-talented senior crew – but she hated not finishing what she'd begun. Hopefully the local leaders wouldn't take offense to her absence, or the Captain's.

"Wouldn't recommend it, no. Go put your feet up, let that pointy-eared boyfriend of yours take care of you for a bit. And if you start feeling worse, let me know. I mean it!" He pointed a finger at her in full mother-hen mode. "We've seen everything from psychedelic pollen to polywater intoxication to salt-sucking vampires in the last year or so, there's no telling what we'll run into next. And I can't treat you for it if I don't know about it!"

"Yes, Doctor," she replied with another faint, wry smile as he whipped a hypospray against her neck.

The headache began lifting almost immediately as the medication entered her system, and she took a relieved breath. Then she lowered herself gingerly off the bio-bed and headed back toward her quarters.

Well, Spock's. They couldn't officially share quarters until they were officially married. The disruption of Vulcan culture after the destruction of their homeworld and the migration of the survivors to New Vulcan, and his status as the first and still most senior Vulcan to ever join Starfleet, not to mention the existence of his time-traveling much older double, complicated things enough that Nyota hadn't pressed him on the subject yet. But she knew what it meant that she had been able to sense him, faintly, in the back of her thoughts, ever since their relationship had deepened after the defeat of the _Narada_ ; and that he always knew exactly how _she_ was feeling. And he knew she knew it. So she could wait for the public recognition.

Although ... She raised a hand to her temple, rubbing her fingers against the faint ache still throbbing there as she walked down the corridor. She _hadn't_ been aware of her usual background sense of him for most of the day, and the distance between the planet and the _Enterprise_ 's orbit wasn't usually enough to break that connection. He did sometimes go quiet when meditating or deeply focused on a scientific project; she'd figured the headache must have been interfering. But that was lifting now, and she was just a couple of corridors away – but she still couldn't sense him.

Worried, Nyota walked a little faster, eager to lay eyes on her partner after her long day. She didn't realize how much she'd gotten used to him always greeting her the moment she walked into their quarters, though, until the door swished open in front of her and he wasn't standing there in front of her.

"Spock?" she called, unable to keep the alarm out of her tone.

"Nyota?" he replied from the bedroom, sounding – well, she would guess startled and a little confused, too; she could still read his tone of voice, which had never been as flat and emotionless as he liked to pretend. But she couldn't _feel_ it, any more than she'd felt him the rest of the day, and she hadn't realized just how much she'd come to rely on that the last few years, either.

He came to the inner door, looking at her, sharply angled brows drawn toward one another. "I had heard that the away team had returned early; I had just finished my shift, and intended to seek you out."

"Some kind of allergic reaction, according to Leonard. But he isn't sure yet; said he needed some more time with the computers. I'm probably not going to return to the negotiations tomorrow, regardless. The Captain either; he was more affected than everyone else, too. So it might be your turn to lead the away team."

She walked further into their quarters as they spoke, letting the door swish shut behind her; he matched her easily, meeting in the middle of the room, reaching up to drift the pads of his sensitive fingers against the sides of her face in a cradling motion. It usually felt caring to her, and with Vulcan touch-telepathy, made him feel closer to her, too. Today, though, it only deepened his frown, and made her temples spark with deeper pain.

"That might not be wise," he said, slowly. "Your mental pathways are inflamed, Nyota."

"My ... what?" She blinked at him, reaching up to snag one of his hands as he removed them from his face. "But – I'm just human, Spock. No more or less naturally telepathic than the rest of my team. How could an allergen of some kind affect that, anyway?"

The only difference between her and any of the others ... was that she _used_ her mental pathways more than the rest of them did, albeit instigated by an external connection. She couldn't speak to Kirk, but ... that _was_ something she hadn't thought of earlier. And Leonard _had_ said something about neurotransmitters.

"I do not know," he replied, "but I concur with Dr. McCoy; you should definitely not return to the planet until the irritant has been identified. In the meantime...." Spock's voice gentled, and his hand tightened gently around hers. "I must insist that you rest."

"Yeah?"

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a long moment, then smiled and leaned slightly forward. He tilted his forehead down, resting it against hers; though any physical contact carried meaning with a touch telepath, nothing was as sensitive as his hands, and this time the touch was as comforting as he'd intended it to be.

"Indeed. In fact, I believe I can more efficiently monitor your symptoms from a reclining position."

Nyota rested there for a moment, basking in the physical presence of her secret sort-of-husband, sharing his breaths; then she sighed and straightened, smiling at him. "All right. I'll let you pamper me, this once."

His mouth hardly twitched; but his eyes, always more deeply expressive than the rest of him, smiled back at her.

"Come," he said, and led her deeper into their quarters.

* * *

She hadn't intended to fall asleep so early, but the extra warmth of Spock's Vulcan body heat and the care with which he held her cradled against him were an even better soporific than the medication Dr. McCoy had given her, and she drifted off almost immediately. It was only a few hours before she woke – it was still only early evening, ship-time – but she felt much better for the nap.

"Mmm," she said, stirring, turning in his arms to stretch more fully against him.

They were both still fully clothed; it didn't look like he'd slept much, but his dark, straight hair was a little ruffled from the pillow, and all the wrinkles in his uniform were ones she'd put there. A wave of possessiveness swept through her, that she was the one who got to see him this way on a regular basis, that he let her do this to him – and he sucked in a sudden, sharp breath.

"Spock?" she said, blinking sleepily at him.

"It is nothing, only ... how are you feeling? I commed Dr. McCoy after you fell asleep, and he advised that my observation was supported by the other patient, as well. But the Captain's symptoms were already fading."

This was _not_ a place and time she wanted to be thinking about Jim Kirk. But she did appreciate the concern. Nyota snuggled closer against his chest, nuzzling slightly against the textured fabric, and stretched her mind carefully the same way she'd stretched her body.

"Well, it doesn't hurt anymore," she said slowly, reveling in the feel of him against her mind again. 

At least, not the fresh pain of injury; what was left felt more like the satisfying ache of well-used muscles. The mental contact itself didn't seem quite back to normal, either, in some unquantifiable way; but that was probably temporary too, and she was much too engrossed by the press of their thoughts echoing the press of their bodies and all the pleasurable configurations that could lead to in order to really think about it in any deeper detail at the moment. "I think I'm good now."

"That is, ah ... I am ... pleased to hear it," Spock managed to reply, as she slipped her hands up under the uniform tunic to trace her fingers over the warm skin beneath.

"You don't have a shift this evening, do you?" she teased gently, pressing her palm over the spot on his abdomen where his Vulcan heart beat, speeding even faster than usual at the touch.

"I do not," he replied, eyes – and the quicksilver mind behind them – reflecting her anticipation.

She smiled, then tipped her chin up, offering; he took a sharp breath, then responded, slanting his mouth over hers with a mentally audible release of restraint that sent a wave of urgent arousal rushing through her.

Most people thought of Vulcans as emotionless robots, Nyota knew, even in the aftermath of the _Narada_ incidents; their affinity for logic and rigid self-control certainly gave that impression to someone who didn't think to look any deeper. But she'd known long before she'd felt the touch of his mind against hers – or even taken any xenosociology classes at the Academy – that the truth had to be a lot more complicated. Their relationship had had its share of ups and downs as a result, but she wouldn't give it up for anything in all the galaxy.

She'd been wearing the long-sleeved version of the skirted uniform that day, and it was abruptly way too much fabric between them; she reached down for the hem as they continued to kiss, then wrestled it up over her head, breaking away from him only long enough to toss the crimson fabric away from them. He reciprocated just as quickly, peeling off his blue science tunic and undershirts – layered to keep himself comfortable in the cooler temperatures humans preferred – and sent them after her dress onto the floor.

More fabric followed, their thoughts intertangling as swiftly as their bodies, fragments of emotion and sensation passing between them without the need to form actual words. Enabling communication was Nyota's life's work – and she'd never experienced anything as close to true communion as these moments in her relationship with Spock, when they were closer to being one person in two bodies than separate individuals.

The feelings were even more intense that day than usual; she almost thought she could hear actual words, a low murmur of Vulcan in Spock's voice, spoken like a private whisper from mind to mind: _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_.

A deep shudder of joy vibrated through her spirit as her body rushed toward climax, and she met Spock's gaze with her own, driven by impulse to reply silently in kind: _I cherish you too, Spock._

They came together like the cresting of a wave, and for one long moment she basked in the satisfaction and bliss of the moment – then gasped as the pain returned suddenly, seizing her mind and breaking the connection.

"Nyota," Spock said, alarmed, grasping at her upper arms. "Nyota!"

"Just ... just a moment," she said, taking deep breaths as the pain ebbed away again, quicker than it had before. She cautiously opened her eyes again, pressing her palms flat against his chest, and smiled wanly. "I guess ... I wasn't as over it as I thought I was."

"I am sorry, I should not have...." he began to say.

She cut him off with a finger pressed across his lips. "Shh. Never apologize for loving me, Spock. But I probably _should_ go back to Sickbay. In a minute, though. After you help me shower?"

"Of course," he said instantly, and stood, naked and unashamed of it as he helped her from the bed toward the First Officer's private facilities.

Spock had a full-water shower in addition to the usual sonics, and switched the water on warm without waiting for her to ask. It was glorious; between the water cascading over her and the careful stroke of his fingers as he helped her wash, she almost felt herself again by the time they'd dried off and donned fresh uniforms. She chose a short-sleeved version this time, though Spock looked the same as he ever did – except for a faint green bruise just above the collar of his undershirt.

Nyota bit her lip on a smile, but tugged the collar up without _him_ asking for it; she knew he liked to look as professional as possible in front of the crew. Not because he felt ashamed, but for professionalism's sake. She didn't mind; she'd been followed her entire career by beings teasing her about her talented tongue and dismissing her intelligence and authority because of it. Some – like their Captain – had matured out of that, but she still preferred not to let her guard down in public, either.

"Thank you," he said, then lifted one of her hands in his, pressing a kiss to the base of her palm.

She felt her cheeks warm; how _did_ he keep surprising her, no matter how well she understood him? She didn't think she'd ever get tired of their relationship.

"Now come on, let's get this over with," she said. "Then maybe I'll let you take care of me some more."

It was his turn for his cheeks to faintly color; she didn't know if that was a normal thing for Vulcans, or something he'd inherited from his human mother, but she always found it enchanting.

"Very well," he said, and led her out into the corridor.

* * *

Dr. McCoy was still in Sickbay when they arrived, going over several sets of readings on a display screen, though most of the other patients were gone. He looked up to meet Nyota's gaze as she and Spock entered, his frown a degree or two deeper than it had been before.

"More side-effects?" he guessed. "What happened?"

She let Spock take that one; he stiffened slightly, hands clasped behind his back, and adopted a much more matter-of-fact tone. "Lt. Uhura rested for approximately two and one half hours; upon waking, the allergic reaction seemed to have ceased. We initiated a degree of mental communion to establish whether the pathways had been seriously affected, and upon realizing that they had been ... opened to a much more intense degree than before, she experienced a fresh spasm of pain. I hypothesize that the so-called allergen the away team encountered was technological to at least some degree; perhaps related to the seeming undercurrents of unspoken communication to which the communications team referred."

Leonard's scowl darkened. "I think you're right there; I took additional samples from the Captain to compare to everyone else's, and I'm betting I'll find the same thing with you: some kind of nanoparticle too fine for the normal tricorders to detect that interacts in some way with the psionic field. The people down there are probably telepaths; not natural, but technologically amplified. And the one thing that both you _and_ Jim have in common is that you have both had prior and intense telepathic contact."

That was a surprise to Nyota; though maybe not to Spock, she thought, from his sudden frown. Had something happened when they boarded the _Narada_? Something to talk about later. But what it implied.... "So if you flush the nanoparticles out of my system, I'll go back to normal?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. The particles seem to expand mental pathways that already exist, not create 'em from scratch. They didn't show up in the rest of the crew when I retested them, either; they must have realized there was nothing to affect, and left 'em with just an allergic reaction from the materials they're made of. Thank God none of our naturally telepathic or empathic crew went down there. But you and Jim ... I had him in here half an hour ago, after he reported something _really loud_ going on somewhere nearby--" He paused to eye them with wry irony, "--and managed to fry 'em with a tuned magnetic field. But the pathways are like river channels; once they're opened, they don't just disappear. I set him up with some psiblockers for now, but I have a feeling we'll need a specialized counselor before long. Even more so for you, I'm guessing."

Nyota swallowed hard, then took a breath. Did that mean...? She glanced at Spock, then back to the doctor.

 _Leonard, do you hear me?_ she thought, as clearly as she could; another stabbing echo of pain followed, but it was worth it for his reaction.

"Well, now, ain't that a thing," he said, eyes widening. "Looks like I was right."

Spock took a deep breath, taking a step closer to her. "A counselor won't be necessary, Doctor; I am quite capable of training her myself, if necessary."

Dr. McCoy glanced back and forth between them, one eyebrow skeptically raised as he raised his tricorder. "Yeah? Not that it won't be, that much is obvious from what just happened, not to mention the neurotransmitter levels I'm seeing, but adding that kind of pressure to a casual relationship ain't always the best idea."

Spock lifted an eyebrow to echo him, and held two fingers out toward Nyota, a very Vulcan display of PDA that he didn't usually engage in. Apparently, _not_ so secret anymore, then. She met the gesture with a sense of inward giddiness as he replied. "Why do you assume this is a casual relationship?"

"Oh," Leonard said, second eyebrow raising to join the first. "Well, then. Congratulations," he added, reaching for another tool on a nearby tray. "Go on and sit down, then. Unless you want to be struck by random headaches every time you're in mental contact for the rest of your lives, I'm going to go ahead and get those things out of your system."

For the rest of their lives ... Nyota's gaze met Spock's again as she sat on one of the bio-beds, still brushing his fingers with hers as the doctor ran the scanner over her.

She had no idea how this would affect their relationship long-term; whether the surviving Vulcan leaders would approve more, or less, of a human partner capable of a full telepathic bond with one of their brightest sons. They said a lot of things about _contributing to the species_ , but given that any children he might have would need to be genetically engineered _anyway_ , she didn't see how that was an issue. There was also the question of how the changes were going to affect the command team of the _Enterprise_. But personally, in that moment, she couldn't see any downsides to her sudden unexpected acquisition of psionic abilities.

Well ... except for one. There really _was_ no way she could go back down to the planet now, and they were going to have to carefully screen the rest of the team that went down for any prior psionic encounters. Not to mention, ask some carefully pointed questions of the native leaders. If they were partially telepathic, they should have mentioned that when the invitation was issued ... not to mention that violating their visitors' bodily autonomy without warning wasn't the best way to start off negotiations. 

"...Check Spock too, just to make sure I didn't accidentally infect him with these things," she grimaced.

"Don't worry, I think you'd know it if you had," Leonard snorted, but waved the tricorder over Spock anyway as soon as he was done checking her over.

"All right, then; you're both clear. Go rest some more – and this time, _no mental nookie_. I recommend letting those pathways heal for at least forty-eight hours before you stretch 'em again," he advised, then grimaced. "God, the things I never thought I'd have to say."

"Understood, Doctor," Spock said, then followed Nyota back out of Sickbay.

They kept their fingers linked all the way back to their quarters. And between them, as they walked, the corridor filled with an undercurrent of quiet joy.

* * *

There _were_ some growing pains, over the next few months. The Admiralty did insist on those counselors, along with a strict round of ethical certification for both she and Jim, who'd ended up with some empathic ability. And at least one of their superiors apparently had an axe to grind about it, because the _Enterprise_ was assigned a busy roster of increasingly finicky missions that danced on the line between moral action and Starfleet regulations. By the time they were surveying a world called Nibiru with a pre-industrial population and very volatile tectonics, she and Spock _still_ hadn't been able to find time for a trip to New Vulcan to officially formalize their relationship.

But none of that quashed Nyota's joy – even in the occasional conflicts of personality or privacy issues that ensued between two lovers of very different cultures and upbringings – in having a full telepathic bond with him. A full partnership, in both her culture _and_ his. She'd never say there'd been anything _lacking_ in their relationship before, but it was an extremely satisfying addition.

Even when he became trapped in a volcano while trying to stop it from erupting and wiping out the natives. Even when the _Enterprise_ had to break cover – and the Prime Directive with it – to save him. Even when he and Kirk got into a huge argument afterward on exactly what to say in the official logs about the incident.

And especially when Spock asked Admiral Pike to officiate for them when they returned to Earth afterward, since it looked like they were just going to get sent right out again – and she came face to face with Admiral Marcus at the reception, accidentally uncovering a massive breach of ethics going on right under Starfleet's nose.

They were right there with each other the whole time, monitoring each other's frequencies.


End file.
